


Anywhere I Would Have Followed You

by thewinterspy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Spoilers for s3e2, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinterspy/pseuds/thewinterspy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is consoled after he leaves the wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere I Would Have Followed You

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a song fic based on Say Something by A Great Big World. I am weak. I have succumbed. It's only a lil drabble but I wanted to put it somewhere so... tadaa.

 

_And I will stumble and fall_

_I'm still learning to love_

_Just starting to crawl_

* * *

 

The day's bright sunlight was an illusion that masked the chill of the venue. A wind swept past, skirting his coat around his knees as he tightened the collar closer to his throat. Even after adjusting it, he felt inclined to keep his arms tucked to his chest. Halfway to curling up. He was tempted. Tempted to stop walking and just crouch on the paved pathway leading away from the building.

 

But the music was still pounding in his ears. It felt like someone beating him with a bat. So he dropped his arms, stashed his hands in his pockets, and kept moving. Moving, like a shark unable to breathe without constancy.

 

He lacked constancy. He never knew how much he needed it until he choked.

 

The path trailed away into a clearing, giving privacy by a wall of young saplings. A bench sat in the middle, either side decorated with a pot of flowers. How charming. How romantic.

 

It was the reason why John Watson had chosen the venue.

 

He moved to the bench, placing himself in the middle. His fingers folded into a polite fist in his lap.

 

Whether seconds or hours passed, someone asked him if he was alright, cautiously tossing his name into the air as a warning. He blinked, the impact feeling like a blow to the chest. He curled around his stomach, just for a moment, to protect his soft belly from the blade that chilled his insides.

 

"Sherlock, it's freezing. How long have you been out here?"

 

There was a tutting noise, one that made him look up at the worried face of Mrs. Hudson. She reached out, cupping his face for a moment before checking his forehead.

 

"Molly noticed you'd left, poor dear started to fret. The others are out looking for you,"

 

"You're fretting right now," Sherlock felt inclined to point out. He can't hear himself in his words, as if someone else were speaking for him. He turned his head again, breaking the contact of his landlady.

 

"You've gotten so cold. Come now, it's late. Let’s get you inside, II'll make you a cuppa-"

 

"Do you ever think your friend Margaret loved you?"

 

Mrs. Hudson froze, still as the air that grew colder around them.

 

"I spend every day of my life thinking about that," she answered truthfully. Truthfully, because her voice wavered and splintered on the last word.

 

"Well?" he asked.

 

The landlady sniffled, wiping her nose on her wrist as she replied, "What is it?"

 

"You've had plenty of time to think about it, you're old," he said bluntly. "Did she love you?"

 

Mrs. Hudson shifted her weight from foot to foot. He didn't need to look at her to see her growing discomfort. So, that was why he was surprised when she shuffled into the space beside him on the bench, and pulled him towards her. He leaned into her embrace willingly, his head nestled on her shoulder.

 

"She loved me, Sherlock."

 

Sherlock hid his wet face in the shoulder of her dress, feeling a lack of warmth and constancy.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_And I will swallow my pride_

_You're the one that I love_

_And I'm saying goodbye_


End file.
